Blogs from Abroad: Italy
By Claudia B. Flisi

 

CALL ME MS. BLUE(FISH)

Posted on June 6, 2008

 

My recent trip to Southern Sicily was a microcosm of everything that is good and bad about life in Italy. The province of Ragusa had asked a group of journalists and publishers to come to this little-known part of the country so we could see how different it is (clean, competent, culturally rich, crime-free) from the rest of Sicily (dirty, disorganized, incompetent, rife with Mafiosi). The idea was to encourage other Italians and foreigners to visit. Our itinerary was to include food and wine, UNESCO-recognized architectural gems and a look at the area's developing infrastructure.

 

The name for the initiative was Azzurro Mediterraneo ("bright blue Mediterranean"), suggesting not only the color of the sea but the blue fish that form part of the local economy and were supposed to be featured prominently in our menus during our stay.

 

In some ways, the trip was a great success. The weather was fabulous, sunny and dry, unlike the rest of the country, wet and shivering this May. Ragusa really is unusual with a treasure of churches, homes and public buildings in Baroque style. Other areas of the southern Mediterranean may offer sun, sea and sand, but few have the cultural framework of this region. The province of Ragusa has an unusually strong entrepreneurial spirit; in fact, it boasts the largest concentration of small and medium-sized enterprises on the island. Exemplary of this drive, the province has attracted funds from the European community to build a new airport and still other financing from public and private sources to build the largest port for pleasure boats in Sicily.

 

Most of the urban centers we saw had been or were being renovated and yuppified with sleek cafés, expensive restaurants and sophisticated boutiques. For example, the small hotel where I stayed was only a year old. Carved out of old city dwellings, it had stone interiors, unusual details, high-speed Internet connections and the friendliness you find in family-owned businesses.

 

Dinner was an even better example of what Italians do well, arguably better than the French. The first night our hosts had chosen a Michelin-starred restaurant called Locanda Don Serafino in Ragusa-Ibla, and there we were wined and dined with the best of local produce. Afterward, the young chef came out to meet us and explain every dish. The setting was lovely, the mood lively. More than three hours later, we staggered off to bed, happy as vongole.

 

This is why so many people fall in love with Italy. Intimate cafés, elegant residents, incredible cooking – and calore (warmth), both the human kind as well as the brilliant sunshine. We were greeted everywhere with smiles and sparkling eyes. No occasion was missed to ply us with locally produced wine and cannoli made with locally produced ricotta. We received gifts of local cheese, local tomatoes and posters of local landmarks. Hugs and kisses all around when we left. What's not to like?

 

That's the good part. The bad part is as disagreeable as the good is delightful. For starters, the disorganization can drive you crazy. The program sent to us ahead of time bore little resemblance to the program we actually followed (not that we kept to our schedule in anything resembling timely fashion).

 

We were supposed to meet local dignitaries at a press conference and cocktail before dinner the first evening, but that didn't happen. When we dined with them, we didn't know who they were, because no one wore name tags and we hadn't been given a list beforehand. We were supposed to take a guided walking tour around Ragusa, but that didn't happen.

 

Admittedly our schedule was an ambitious one, and we didn't expect to be able to keep all our appointments. But there were some we valued higher than others, like a tour of the beautiful Baroque town of Modica and a visit to the town's famed chocolate manufacturer, Antica Dolceria Bonajuto. We wound up missing both because lunch that day had gone on and on.

 

It occurred to some of us over the course of our many wonderful meals that our menus were supposed to exalt bluefish like sardines and mackerel, overlooked and undervalued in Mediterranean restaurants of a certain level. But instead, our divine menus featured swordfish, shrimp and fresh tuna, none of them poor by any standard. We weren't complaining, mind you, but we couldn't understand why our hosts called their initiative Blue Mediterranean in honor of bluefish they didn't serve us.

 

(Over the course of four days, some bluefish did show up on our plates, in ways fancy and plain, always good, often excellent. But tuna, shrimp, squid and swordfish were served more often.)

 

One day, we joined local fishermen for a sample of "fish tourism." For a small fee, tourists can join fishermen on their boats for a morning at sea. The fishermen explain their life and livelihood, and the guests come away with a sense of what it means to be a village fisherman today. The idea was great, and our hosts had prepared a description of the coastline we would be seeing, with notations about each fishing village we would pass. So what did our fishermen explain to us on the boat? Nothing. They passed out drinks and the ubiquitous cannoli, but said not a word about fishing or scenery. None of us saw a copy of the description that had been prepared for our benefit. How much would a fisherman's tour cost? Blank looks. How would a tourist sign up for such a tour? Shoulder shrugs.

 

Another day we were supposed to hear from a local official about the ambitious new marina being built along the coast. We were squired from one end of the pier to the other. We sat for 90 minutes in the hot sun waiting for said official to appear. Finally we were told that he would make a presentation to us at lunch. We trotted off to another delicious restaurant and never heard a word about the project.

 

The one project that did appear to interest the provincial government was our visit itself. Local dignitaries were so pleased at our presence that they brought their families, friends and sweethearts to just about every official activity we attended. We were outnumbered by participants whose relevance to our work was completely unclear to us. Family ties and the bonds of friendship are important all over Italy, but carried to extremes, they prevent the country from adopting a much-needed meritocracy mentality, and this unbalanced situation is strikingly evident in Sicily.

 

I came back from my trip tired, tanned and five pounds heavier. Ragusa did a great job of displaying its natural, cultural and culinary treasures. But Italy still has a long way to go if it hopes to catch up with the rest of Europe.

 

Based in Italy, Claudia Flisi writes about business and culture for the International Herald Tribune and many other publications, and for corporate clients ranging from Apple (computers) to Zegna (clothing). She can be reached through her website at flisi.net.

 

To comment on this blog, e-mail blog@pinkmagazine.com and enter "Italy" in the subject line.

COMMENTS

I enjoyed Claudia Flisi's account of her trip to Ragusa.  I was there 5 years ago and marveled at how such a gorgeous place could be so lacking in tourist development.  I still have hope that the Sicilians will one day organise their tourist industry to create the vacation paradise that their island should be.
Joan Turner

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THE BUREAUCRATIC NAME GAME

Posted on May 1, 2008

 

"How can Hillary Clinton pretend to represent women when she doesn't even use her own name?" Elisa, an Italian student, and I were discussing politics the other day, and she posed the question. For her, it was an affront that Hillary uses her husband's name, Clinton, instead of – or as well as – her own, Rodham.

 

I had to explain to her that U.S. law is different from Italian law. Here in Italy, all women use their maiden name for official documents, such as passports, identity cards, driver's licenses and fiscal codes (like a Social Security number). It's not a matter of choice, or an expression of independence from one's husband; it's simply the law.

 

In the U.S., a woman can choose whether to keep her maiden name, use her married name, or adopt a hyphenated name in her professional life, I told Elisa. I also described to her Hillary Clinton's difficulties when she did, in fact, try to use her maiden name while in public life. "She was pilloried," I said, "and had to retreat and accept the use of her husband's name. She refers to herself as Hillary Rodham Clinton, but that's about as far as the political bounds stretch."

 

Elisa was relieved. She hadn't known this and had judged the senator from New York negatively because of her perceived lack of independence.

 

In setting the record straight, I was reminded that Italy's name game can create a Catch-22 if you are a foreign-born woman. If you come to Italy as a single woman, no problem. If you come to Italy as a married woman who has chosen to keep her maiden name on all documentation, no problem. But if you come to Italy with documents showing only a married name, be prepared for a lot of aggravation.

 

That has been my case. My husband's family name, Flisi, just happens to work wonderfully well with my given name, Claudia. (I like to joke that my mother knew I was destined to marry an Italian, and that's why she chose an oh-so-Italian name). Because the two work so well together, and my maiden name does not, I was delighted to swap the latter for the former. Besides, my professional life began as soon as I finished graduate school, which coincided with my wedding, so my maiden name had no market value worth retaining.

 

All was fine in the U.S. My Social Security number, passport, driver's license – everything was registered as Claudia Flisi. But when I came to Italy and had to open a bank account, I was asked to provide a birth certificate. That name was of course different from all my other documentation, so the bank clerk didn't know what to do. The company I was working for at the time put pressure on the bank, and they eventually opened an account for me in my married name.

 

Years later when I was freelancing and changed banks, I had to open an account using my maiden name. However, the checks coming in for me were all addressed to me with my married name, which caused considerable confusion. Sometimes I sign my checks with my married name, sometimes with my maiden name, sometimes with a hyphenated name. Nothing has bounced so far, but I do receive periodic calls from the bank about this or that transaction.

 

When I became eligible to join the Italian healthcare system, the system identified me using my maiden name. But my doctor's medical records had previously referred to me through my married name. So all my medical requests are made in the name of one person, while the hospital, pharmacy and other state services have me in their records as another person. It makes for a lot of negotiation every time I have to see a specialist or schedule a test.

 

Thank goodness I am pretty healthy and don't have to argue about who I am very often.

 

My passports are another source of frustration – and amusement. My U.S. passport carries my married, very Italian-sounding name. My Italian passport carries my very American-sounding maiden name. So when I travel to countries where American citizens are less than welcome, I flash an Italian passport, but it sports an American name.

 

To add to the confusion, I used my married name to enroll in airline frequent flyer programs. That was fine when I was using my U.S. passport for air travel, but these days I prefer to use my Italian one. (Frankly, it's safer.) So when I try to claim my miles, the programs tell me that I am not the person I profess to be, and therefore I am not eligible for my own rewards.

 

Catch-22 all over again. And Hillary/Rodham/Clinton thought she had a name problem …

 

Based in Italy, Claudia Flisi writes about business and culture for the International Herald Tribune and many other publications, and for corporate clients ranging from Apple (computers) to Zegna (clothing). She can be reached through her website atflisi.net.

 

To comment on this blog, e-mail blog@pinkmagazine.com and enter "Italy" in the subject line.

A confusing issue . . . clearly explained!
Anonymous

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THE LUCK OF THE ITALIANS?
Posted on March 21, 2008

At a press conference on St. Patrick's Day, I had the luck to be sitting next to the mayor of Milan, a woman named Letizia Moratti. She is the first woman mayor of this city and an impressive figure in any context. She is tall and slender yet imposing; she towers over many of her (invariably male) colleagues when standing at a dais. When sitting, she is still commanding; she sits ramrod straight, looks at her audience, rarely consults her notes, speaks with conviction interlaced with charm.

Moratti was addressing a group of foreign journalists because on March 31, the Bureau of International Expositions (BEI) will decide whether Milan or Izmir, Turkey, will become the site of an international exposition in 2015. Milan is investing billions of euros into the planning, and Moratti seemed very confident about the outcome. Since a Turkish journalist was in attendance, she was less precise than she might otherwise have been in responding to a series of questions about funding and campaign strategy at this point. She did say that the total investment will be 4.1 billion euros (about $6.5 billion), mostly to prepare the site and facilities, and the rest to finance operations. She emphasized that funding would come from a combination of public and private sources. This being Europe, public funding predominates.

Moratti was sure that her city had all its cards lined up, in typically Italian fashion. For example, the theme Milan has chosen is "Feeding the planet; energy for life." Food is not only relevant with its implications for world poverty and global health issues, but it also plays to Italy's recognized strength in the kitchen. Moratti pointed out that Lombardy, the region where Milan is located, is No. 1 in food productivity in Europe.

"Energy for life" allows Milan to encompass energy issues, such as renewable energy, alternative fuels and rural electrification (a major issue in developing areas), and thus increase the reach and appeal of its proposal. Many of the 140 member states of the BEI are in the developing world, so themes with direct relevance to them are likely to capture their attention … and their votes. Milan is sweetening its pitch with a series of funds for renewable energy, for natural disaster preparedness, for microfinance, for countries from which large numbers of Italian immigrants have come in recent years.

It all sounded like a grab-bag of earmarks to me, intended more to secure votes than to make a substantive difference on any given issue, an impression reinforced by Moratti's admission that the special funds being proposed would only become available if the city won its bid.

However, the other journalists present at the press conference weren't as cynical as I was. Nor were they as sensitive to the makeup of the "Scientific Committee" created to help the city carry out its theme: Of 21 prestige-name Italians, there are only three women on the committee. I asked the mayor why this was so, and she smiled.

"These are three illustrious women," she assured us.

"But there are other illustrious women," I insisted.

"Well, this is a start," she said, leaving me wondering why Italian women have to start so late.

We were all impressed by Moratti's energy and persuasiveness and commitment to the project. In fact, several questions touched on the issue of why it takes a mega-project like Expo 2015 to make Milan – or any Italian city for that matter – do something to improve its infrastructure, address its pollution problems, embellish its parks and enrich its inadequate transportation system – and in a (highly unusual for Italy) politically bipartisan manner.

Moratti smoothly pointed out that Turin's hosting of the 2006 Winter Olympics had been a catalyzing event for that city, resulting in a series of improvements that might have happened anyway but would have taken a lot longer in the absence of a specific deadline or bipartisan cooperation. Expo 2015 would be a rallying point for a city that is by far Italy's most important economically and culturally, but that hasn't quite gotten its act together to face the challenges of the third millennium.

Like Milan, Italy seems to need an outside excuse or authority, like the EU, to impose goals and deadlines, because by itself the country would rather just go along drinking espresso, playing at la dolce vita and sidestepping the tough decisions that need to be made to avoid an irreversible decline.

Based in Italy, Claudia Flisi writes about business and culture for the International Herald Tribune and many other publications, and for corporate clients ranging from Apple (computers) to Zegna (clothing). She can be reached through her website at flisi.net.

 

To comment on this blog, e-mail blog@pinkmagazine.com and enter "Italy" in the subject line.

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MIMOSAS ARE CURIOUS … YELLOW

Posted on March 7, 2008

 

International Women's Day is March 8, and the weather in Milan is cooperating. Mimosas – the flower emblem for Women's Day – are already blossoming in the uncharacteristically mild temperatures. Unfortunately, the situation for professional women in this country hasn't bloomed so brightly, certainly not in comparison to women elsewhere in Europe.

 

Case in point: A few weeks ago I was invited to a day-long conference on the development of professional management in Italy. Professional management is particularly important here because the economic backbone of the country consists of small, family-owned companies that aren't generally showcases for professional managers. The problems facing business here are the same as anywhere in Europe: increased competition from inside and outside the EU (i.e., China and India), increasingly sophisticated technological demands and a strong euro in a weak international economy, among others. And the conference organizers want to encourage the hiring of experienced outside executives, especially those with MBAs, to help meet these challenges.

 

All that is well and good. When you consider that well over 50 percent of the population is female, more than half the students in Italian universities are female and an even higher percentage of university graduates are female, you would imagine that the room would be full of young women – students and professionals alike – right? Wrong. The audience was almost exclusively male. What was worse was that not one, not one, of the 26 speakers during the course of the day was a woman.

 

To top things off, what would have been funny if it weren't so tragic is that the conference was billed as "Managerial Training: A Project for the Development of Italy." I ask you, How can you develop a country by ignoring more than half of its population and well over half of its most educated class? It's well-known that Spain has surpassed Italy in economic clout, in part by concentrating on the development of women in the workforce. Italian women, instead, are among the least likely to be in paid employment of any country in the industrialized world (only 45 percent), according to OECD statistics.

 

Changing the status quo in Italy won't be easy. It may require "la quota rosa" (the pink quota – a mandatory minimum percentage of females) across a wide spectrum of activities. Mercedes Bresso, the president of Piedmont (the equivalent of a U.S. governor), admits that she wasn't convinced about a quota rosa at first but changed her mind after entering politics. "If I leave it to others to choose candidates for positions in my administration, men will invariably be chosen," she acknowledges. "A quota system is indispensable to get women started; you need to convince women that positions exist for them and convince men that half the positions available are for them – not 90 percent for them but half."

 

She gives a recent example. She had to appoint 60 people in regional health, wanting at least 25 percent of the names to be women. "I said, 'If you can't find me at least 25 percent women, I won't put any names forward.' In the end we wound up appointing 15 women, but the initial proposal had only three women's names, so at least progress was made."

 

Whether or not you agree with quotas philosophically, you have to acknowledge that the simple, consistent presence of women – on a committee, a board, a dais, a masthead – helps legitimize our participation in the business at hand.

 

When I wrote to the organizers of the managerial conference afterward, asking why there weren't any women speaking at their event, I pointed out that at seminars organized by Italy's best-known university, Universita Bocconi, a sort of Italian Harvard, there are always women present. At sessions given by Italy's Institute for the Study of International Politics, a major think tank for international affairs, women are always among the speakers. Confindustria, the country's leading business lobby, has many women on its board, and the powerful head of Confindustria in Lombardy is a woman. The American Chamber of Commerce in Italy does not always but often includes women in its public forums.

 

Why? Because the political will to change things exists at the top. Bocconi is headed by Mario Monti, a well-traveled former EU commissioner who, among other progressive actions, suggested a woman to take over his job in Brussels. ISPI is headed by former diplomat Boris Biancheri, who served as Italian ambassador to Washington and had the opportunity to see women operating at high levels of government. Confindustria is headed by Luca Cordero de Montezemolo, head of Fiat and a sophisticated businessman who studied at Columbia University in New York. AmCham in Italy is headed by Paolo Catalfamo, who formerly ran an American investment fund and travels often to the U.S.

 

All of which underscores the truth that women will shatter glass ceilings more easily here when there are enlightened men around to give them a helping hammer.

 

In response to my note to the organizers of the management conference (I picked on them but could've written the same complaint to dozens of roundtables and events that take place daily across Italy), the president replied to me right away. "We asked a couple of women but they were busy," he said. "I guess we didn't try hard enough. Thank you for calling our attention to this failing. We will do better next time."

 

Staremo a vedere, as they say in Italian. Let's wait and see. Meanwhile, I won't be holding my breath long enough to smell the mimosas.

 

Based in Italy, Claudia Flisi writes about business and culture for the International Herald Tribune and many other publications, and for corporate clients ranging from Apple (computers) to Zegna (clothing). She can be reached through her website at flisi.net.

 

To comment on this blog, e-mail blog@pinkmagazine.com and enter "Italy" in the subject line.

COMMENTS

 

 

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ON A FASHIONABLE FOOTING IN ITALY

Posted on February 19, 2008

 

This week is Fashion Week in Milan, when the world's top fashion buyers come to attend shows, inspect clothes, negotiate deals and one-up each other. Even those who are not in the fashion industry can't help but notice.

 

Shop windows are smarter; restaurant reservations and taxis are harder to come by; and women walking on the most stylish streets like Montenapoleone and Via della Spiga seem to have grown 2 inches.

 

It reminds me of my traumas when I first started working in Milan and realized I didn't know how to dress. I had worked in Atlanta, Los Angeles and New York before coming to Italy – and had what I thought was a decent wardrobe. It was Loehmann's and Syms rather than Bergdorf and Bloomingdale's, yet it seemed more than adequate to the office environments in which I moved.

 

But I had never worked in the fashion industry, and in Milan every industry is about fashion, regardless of whether you are an accountant or a zoologist. The very first day in the advertising agency where I was then employed, I realized that the secretaries were better dressed than I was. For one thing, many of them (not all, but many) had fur coats, and I had never dreamed of owning a fur coat. All of them, from the most casual (jeans and T's) to the most elegant (designer suits), wore clothes made of natural fibers – silk, cotton, cashmere, wool. Not a polyester garment in the office.

 

Natural fibers are great and healthy and environmentally friendly, but they require hand-washing or expensive dry cleaning and hours of ironing, preferably with heavy duty, industrial-strength steam irons. If you have your own "donna da stiro" (woman who does ironing for you), you are fine, but if not? Not to mention that dry cleaning costs are comparable to those in the U.S. – no bargain.

 

The upshot is that clothes are expensive to buy and expensive to maintain. So are the scarves, handbags and accessories to complement each outfit.

 

And so are the shoes. Naturally, Italian women at work and at play have great shoes, since this is the shoe capital of the world. I realized as soon as I moved here that my footwear also didn't cut the mustard. So I asked around and found out which shoe manufacturers had outlet stores and went and enriched my foot wardrobe. But having the right shoes is only part of the story. You also have to wear them. And I couldn't shake the habit acquired in Manhattan of wearing sports shoes on the street, then changing into heels at the office. This practice was unheard of in Milan when I first moved here, and it still isn't done. But I still do it. I can't understand how Italian women can negotiate cobblestone and poorly maintained streets in stiletto spikes. But they do it every day. And you see more of them doing it during Fashion Week.

 

Some of them also do it at trade fairs, which is almost as incomprehensible. Milan's major trade fair venue is about one mile from end to end – not easy to navigate in sports shoes, much less heels. Plus the easiest way to arrive at the fairgrounds is by metro (i.e., subway), with its stairs, curbs and broken pavement – an obstacle course for anyone in heels. But Italian women do it.

 

There are exceptions. The older the woman, the lower the heel. The sportier the dress, the lower the heel (usually). The higher the managerial position of the woman, the less likely she is to wear stilettos – unless she works at Gucci or Rene Caovilla or the like.

 

Still, the shoes Italian women put on in the morning to go to work are the shoes they wear at work, regardless of how many streets, subways and steps they have to negotiate to get there. This shortens shoe life considerably, which is great for the shoe industry but not so good for working women on a budget. The women sure look good, though.

Based in Italy, Claudia Flisi writes about business and culture for the International Herald Tribune and many other publications, and for corporate clients ranging from Apple (computers) to Zegna (clothing). She can be reached through her website at flisi.net.

 

To comment on this blog, e-mail blog@pinkmagazine.com and enter "Italy" in the subject line.

COMMENTS

so have you learned how italian women's do it yet,?? may be it's the best kept secretary secret....!me.

I never understood how women worked in heels, mini skirts and low-cut tank-tops all while maintaining perfectly coiffed hair and make-up, during the day nonetheless. Perhaps I just think about my job duties and cant imagine being comfortable doing them in such uncomfortable clothing. Personally I would always be thinking "Is anything popping out yet?" not to mention I am a firm believer in daytime versus nighttime garb. (Think Banana Republic for day and Gucci for night). There is a time and place for everything, and I suppose in many cities that time is Fashion Week, all day everyday.

- Fashionable in flats

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WRINGING AND FALLING

Posted on February 4, 2008

 

Italy's most recent government fell at the end of January. There was a vote of confidence in the prime minister, Romano Prodi. He lost, and that was it. This marked the end of the country's 61st government since the end of World War II, an average of little more than one per year.

 

The country isn't as unstable as that number would suggest, because every time a new government is formed, it is made up of more or less the same guys (and I do mean guys, because so few women are present) with a few token changes here and there. Some hand-wringing occurs with each switch of political leadership, but generally people go back to their daily routine because they know that things don't really change at all.

 

This time the hand-wringing has been more vigorous than usual. The business community is acutely, painfully aware that while the government here plays musical chairs, Italy has fallen further and further behind in international rankings of economic power. Last year the World Competitiveness Survey, conducted each year by IMD of Switzerland, ranked Italy 42nd in the world, just below Bulgaria. It was the lowest-ranked country in the EU in this survey. Italy fared even worse in the World Bank–sponsored survey on "ease of doing business," where it came in at No. 53, just below Mongolia.

 

Businesspeople tend to blame "the government" (a generic "government," obviously, because one never knows from one day to the next which government will actually be in power). Salaried employees often blame business. The unions are the culprit for anyone who isn't in a union. And the government finds it convenient to heap blame on immigrants (who, by the way, are desperately needed because of Italy's negative birth rate).

 

Some of these accusations sound familiar to Americans, especially in this election year; the difference is that U.S. productivity remains high compared to Italy's. And U.S. unemployment, while rising, is still nowhere at the levels tolerated in this country.

 

In short, it's a mess here, and worst off are the SMEs that have historically formed the backbone of the Italian economy – and where the women who do work in this country are disproportionately represented. A woman friend who does sourcing for the ever-more-volatile fashion industry had a nervous breakdown a couple of months ago. Another friend, an accountant, developed a life-threatening disease from the stress of trying to keep track of all the fiscal changes that are thrown at her with each new government. Another woman who had loved her job with an Italian ICT startup gave up the struggle and has gone to work for a big American tech firm. These are all anecdotal examples, to be sure, but they exemplify the trend and personalize the statistics.

 

Saddest of all: Improving things isn't rocket science. All it takes is political will. But politicians are focused only on their short-term survival, in part because of the way the political system is structured today, and in part because the electorate is too disillusioned (or too lazy) to hold them accountable. Women are conspicuously absent in the corridors of power.

 

At times like this, I am reminded of how flexible and resilient the U.S. system is, and how we – working women – can make a difference and change things for the better in our country. Italian women should start rolling up the sleeves of their designer silk shirts and get to it.

 

 

Based in Italy, Claudia Flisi writes about business and culture for the International Herald Tribune and many other publications, and for corporate clients ranging from Apple (computers) to Zegna (clothing). She can be reached through her website at flisi.net.

 

To comment on this blog, e-mail blog@pinkmagazine.com and enter "Italy" in the subject line.

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ALL FUELED UP – AND SITTING IN TRAFFIC

Posted on Jan 22, 2008

 

"Why do Americans complain about the cost of gasoline?" some of my Italian friends wonder when they come back from trips to the U.S. "Your gasoline costs half what it costs in Italy." "True enough," I explain, "but up until a few years ago it cost one-fourth of what it costs here." They find that hard to believe.

 

Italians – and Europeans in general, but especially Italians – are used to paying much more for gasoline, in actual terms and as a percentage of income. About 10 years ago, a barrel of crude oil cost one-tenth of what it costs today. That goes for everyone in every industrialized country, and is part of the reason for the increase in gasoline prices in the last decade. But what makes up most of the difference at the pump between the U.S. and Italy (or France, Germany, etc.) is government taxation: at least 50 percent in Europe and between 60 and 70 percent in Italy. When I fill up our sedan, the cost is equivalent to about $100.

 

We all complain about it, sure, but it hasn't stopped people here from having one of the highest rates of car ownership in the world. Plus, Italians have among the highest rates of second car ownership and one of the highest rates of increase in car ownership. That latter figure slipped last year due to the general economic malaise in the country, but you wouldn't realize it fighting your way through city traffic or crawling at a snail's pace on the country's supposedly high-speed motorways.

 

I have never really understood Italy's passion for driving. Sure, Italy makes the sexiest, costliest, most heart-pounding automobiles in the world – Ferrari, Lamborghini, Maserati, Bugatti, to name a few. But, first of all, how many of us actually have the means to shell out up to $1 million for a car? You could travel in taxis for the rest of your life for what some of these beauties cost – and that doesn't take into account insurance, maintenance and the elevated cost of gasoline.

 

Plus, Italy doesn't make the roads you need to drive these cars. Italy has the lowest percentage of roads per capita in Europe, in spite of having among the highest percentage of cars. The cost of maintaining those roads is the highest on the continent, again on a per capita basis. What this means is – more taxes. You would think people might want to drive less as a result of the expensive, heavily trafficked, poorly maintained roads, but you'd be wrong. Every time there is a ponte, a long holiday weekend, which happens with alarming frequency in this country (I mean, really, when do people settle down to work amid all these holiday interruptions?), the media are full of reports about how many millions of cars are on the road and how long the delays are on the major highways, and, oh yes, how many deaths result. Last Christmas three families out of four were traveling, and that makes for a lot of cars on a statistically inadequate number of roads.

 

Not to mention the parking problem. Italy's major cities are old, meaning they were conceived for horses and carriages, not automobiles. Only newer apartment buildings are obliged to provide parking spaces for their occupants, and office buildings not at all. So Italians naturally park wherever they can, blocking driveways, reducing traffic flows, whatever it takes. I have done the same thing myself (and paid the price, as often as not. When your car is towed in Italy, it is a long, painful and costly proposition to retrieve it).

 

I go to Milan often for work and take the train whenever I can. Trains here aren't perfect, but I live in a place that is pretty well served by two different train lines during the day. Some (not all) of the commuter trains are clean and fast. And some (not all) have functioning heating systems in the winter and A/C in the summer. But they aren't practical at night, when the train schedule is dramatically reduced. In these situations, I sigh and prepare for the ordeal. I have to allow an hour for the 15-mile trip (double that in rush hour) and up to another half-hour to find an acceptable place to park, and maybe another 15 minutes to get from wherever I have parked to wherever I have to be. A half-hour train ride can take two hours by car. An $8 or so round-trip train fare can cost up to $50 by car, including gas, parking and tolls.

 

But what can you do when you have to get from here to there? You do it. At least there is the public transportation alternative during the day. And when I have to drive, I can sit in the driver's seat while stalled in traffic and imagine myself at the wheel of a Ferrari 430 Scuderia (a $250,000 boy's toy I actually did have the honor of driving at a racetrack not too long ago). The mind, it can be said, is a wonderful thing to race.

 

Based in Italy, Claudia Flisi writes about business and culture for the International Herald Tribune and many other publications, and for corporate clients ranging from Apple (computers) to Zegna (clothing). She can be reached through her website at flisi.net.

 

To comment on this blog, e-mail blog@pinkmagazine.com and enter "Italy" in the subject line.

COMMENTS

This article brings to mind Beppe Grillo, described in a recent New Yorker as an Italian version of Michael Moore.  His V-day (Vaffanculo!) meetings seem to combine political protest with absurdist comedy à la Boris Vian with the energetic and irreverant street theatre of the San Francisco Mime Troupe ca 1969.  Prodi's problem may have really been he was just too earnest and sérieux in the EuroBureauCrat mold to survive in a political and cultural environment where Fellini crossed with Cosa Nostra gets you Berlusconi.  Beppe, however, may be up to the challenge, having grasped the truth of the French maxim le ridicule tue.  If nothing else, he seems to get a lot of people laughing at all this stuff which isn't so funny!  ciao, y'all.

Christine

In my neighborhood in Milan, the sidewalks are used for auxiliary parking spaces. I get dirty looks from drivers trying to park while I'm walking my dog and blocking their "space".

Maria

NO LAUGHING MATTER
Posted on December 14, 2007

 

"Why don't American women have a sense of humor?" I am asked time and again by Italian executives. I happen to live and work in Italy, but I'm asked the same thing by French, German, Swiss or South American counterparts when I'm traveling or attending conferences. Both men and women make this comment – the former out of exasperation, the latter with a sly smile of cultural superiority.

 

What they mean is, "Why do American women take everything so seriously? Why can't they relax a little? What is their problem?" The men wonder what in the world people talk about in the U.S. workplace when the atmosphere is poisoned by unrelenting suspicion on the part of the women. Not to talk about soccer in Italy? Or cricket in England? Or sex anywhere? For Europeans of both sexes, a little light sexual banter is natural, not discriminatory. And that's not an a posteriori defense of status quo discrimination; that's simply the reflection of a different reality.

 

Sex is more pervasive and less offensive in Europe than it is in puritanical America, as per the often-noted existence in Europe of topless beaches and mainstream magazines featuring female nudity while, at the same time, a per capita rate of rape and violence against women that is much lower than it is in the United States. Not to mention the numbers of European women who have become heads of state or CEOs of international organizations without the fanfare or polemic that would accompany such achievements in the U.S. (A lot of Italians and French are adopting a wait-and-see attitude about the U.S. election next November.)

 

Businesswomen in Europe, in Italy certainly, are not oblivious to the problems facing women in the workplace. Although Italy produced one of the first female corporate executives of international stature back in the 1980s (Marisa Bellisario, a top-ranking Olivetti manager), Italian women on the whole are significantly under-represented in the workforce as a whole and in corporate ranks in particular compared to their Scandinavian, British, French or German counterparts. Still, the Italian women who do run businesses – and there are many among the family-owned enterprises that dominate this country's economy – regard their sober-faced, button-down American colleagues with a bemused shake of the head.

 

A little male-female parrying goes with the territory, they believe. The "territory" meaning life itself, of which business is only a part – maybe the biggest chunk, the most important, the income- and status-determining component, but only a part. In this all-encompassing territory, it's absolutely OK to admit that women have boobs and better-looking legs (at least, one hopes) and can dress in more interesting ways and use more complex perfumes and acknowledge all of the above with a smile in remarks addressed to or received from male colleagues – and still command professional respect for the business results they achieve.

 

The observation of a lawyer in Milan: "Sexual discrimination? People can't afford that stuff today. The competition is too fierce. What counts is what you do for the bottom line. If you can show results, you get the job or the promotion or the salary increase, regardless of age or sex or family connections. Even in Italy."

 

Of course, that kind of pure meritocracy exists only in theory, but at least if you buy into the theory, you can strive for the results you want without sacrificing gender identity. Or a sense of humor. Sometimes I wonder if my American sisters have read Drucker, much less Goleman, both of whom insist on a sense of humor as a key attribute of good managers. I am not saying an American executive should regale her staff with a joke every morning to prove how witty she is. (Nor do I believe she should show up in see-through blouses and skin-tight miniskirts to assert her femininity.)

 

But can't she lighten up? Take it easier? Smile once in a while? Take a compliment from a male colleague without taking offense? Acknowledge the existence of sex (yes, Virginia, even in the workplace) without letting it sidetrack her from her role as manager? Learn from the example of her European colleagues, who never deny what they are because they are very confident of who they are.

 

I have no daughters of my own. But I have two sons who work in the U.S. In moments of weakness I offer them advice on evaluating potential life partners and refer to attributes such as looks, wealth, career success or intelligence only in passing. The most important thing, I say, is a sense of humor. Smarts stay with you; all the rest may come and go. But the only thing that gets you through the long haul is a sense of humor.

 

Yet I wonder to myself, looking at many of the defensive, testy, overly-sensitive women in American managerial ranks today, if my sons will find anyone who can go the distance. (I'm not joking.)

 

Based in Italy, Claudia Flisi writes about business and culture for the International Herald Tribune and many other publications, and for corporate clients ranging from Apple (computers) to Zegna (clothing). She can be reached through her website at flisi.net.

 

To comment on this blog, e-mail blog@pinkmagazine.com and enter "Italy" in the subject line.

COMMENTS

. . . . . . . . . .

IN ITALY, TRANSPARENCY IS NOT IN FASHION

Salve. Salut. Heil. Greetings from Europe, where I have lived and worked for more than two decades in Italy, France, the U.K. and Switzerland. When I first came to work on this side of the Atlantic, people here would recite to me the famous old joke about Europeans: In heaven the English are the policemen, the French are the cooks, the Italians are the lovers and the Germans organize everything. In hell, the English are the cooks, the French are the policemen, the Germans are the lovers and the Italians organize everything.

The joke works because there is some truth to the stereotypes. I'm not going to talk about Italians as lovers because I've been married to one for more years than it's wise to confess (maybe that fact speaks for itself), but I can vouch for the fact that Italians – more than their Mediterranean cousins in France and Spain – do not like structure, organization, bureaucracy or planning ahead. They have Europe's worst smog problem (at least in Milan), worst postal system, worst tax-collection system … and the list goes on. The contradiction is that their pollution laws appear to be among the most enlightened, the government bureaucracy is the biggest in Europe on a per capita basis, and Italian taxes – for those who pay them – are among the most onerous in the world.

When you start working for an Italian company of a certain size, you may be shown a company mission statement or code of beliefs, even a one- or three-year forecast. You are only likely to see these things if you are a management-level employee, however. For some reason, many Italian businesspeople think that workers have no interest in understanding the company they work for – its raison d'être, goals, objectives. Managers would like their employees to be loyal to the company, but they are loathe to share information that could evoke such loyalty.

You have to live with these complete contradictions, learn to go with the flow, or you wind up going completely crazy. Italians have an expression for what is needed; it's "l'arte di arrangiarsi," the art of managing, or making do, or accommodating. At its best, arrangiarsi is flexibility, versatility and resilience. At its worst, it means complete lack of rules, or what is euphemistically called a "lack of transparency." So, for example, when I first wanted to open a bank account in Italy, I went to a local bank, sat down and asked how much they charged for a checking account. I might just as well have been asking about a loan to construct a rocket ship to Mars. "Fixed rates? What are those? It all depends on how much you put in, how much you take out, what is your monthly balance, how many checks you plan to write." Who knows the answers to those questions when you first move to a new city, a new country?

(To be fair, Italy isn't the only place where this happens. Once I was writing about private banking in Monaco and asked a well-known bank what seemed to be a straightforward question: "What are your banking hours?" The answer was, "You tell us which customers, and we will tell you what time we open and close for them.")

The lack of transparency in the Italian banking system was so notorious that the country eventually did have to provide customers with a list of fees for services. But l'arte di arrangiarsi still prevails. When I receive a check from a non-Italian client, I go to see the head of the international department at my local bank. Sitting across from him with downcast eyes, lamenting the onerous rates that small businesses are forced to pay, I negotiate a reduced fee for the "official" money exchange charge that is automatically levied on foreign checks. Every Christmas, in the spirit of the season, I bring a plate of homemade cookies to his department.

The distinction between transparency and humanity is exceedingly blurred in this part of the world, a topic I'll explore from a different perspective next time.

 

Based in Italy, Claudia Flisi writes about business and culture for the International Herald Tribune and many other publications, and for corporate clients ranging from Apple (computers) to Zegna (clothing). She can be reached through her website at flisi.net.

 

To comment on this blog, e-mail blog@pinkmagazine.com and enter "Italy" in the subject line.

COMMENTS

Yes, living in Italy does require incredible mental flexibility but what better way to keep your brain in shape? As much as we might complain about the system, those of us who have finally mastered the techniques needed for the "arte di arrangiarsi" wouldn't live anyplace else!

Maggie from Milan

I enjoyed this pink blog essay. Gives some interesting perspective, especially for new expats. Look forward to the next installment.

Julie

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